


The Back of Their Minds

by harusjiyuu



Category: Free!
Genre: Art student haru, I Don't Know Where This Is Going, M/M, art student/model au, nude model makoto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harusjiyuu/pseuds/harusjiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka has never felt awkward about calling the male models attractive. It's from an artistic standpoint.</p><p>Except...there's something more intriguing about Makoto Tachibana than the detail of his back muscles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Back of Their Minds

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is the first time I'm uploading anything lengthy. It's based on a prompt submitted for the Makoto Birthday Exchange back in November, so hopefully it's okay that I'm using it now? The idea of artist!Haru drawing model!Makoto's back muscles is just really attractive okay.
> 
> Not rated it yet because I have no idea what'll happen. I've only written a couple of chapters, so maybe smut later I don't know?

One of the first things Haruka Nanase notices when he steps into his life drawing class is that he is the only one in the room. This isn’t wholly surprising, since out of the twelve students total, Haruka is always the first to arrive. The only person who is unfailingly earlier than he is Yamazaki, the class’s regular model, and even on the rare occasions when Haru beats him here, Yamazaki follows right on his heels.

Haruka busies himself setting up his easel and drawing supplies, expecting Yamazaki to saunter in, hands shoved in the pockets of his swim jersey as he did every day. Before long, someone does walk in, and Haru glances to the door.

Just one of his classmates, a petite girl who keeps to herself. She offers him a timid smile before setting herself up across the room. This suits Haru fine. He likes it better when no one’s next to him.

Soon, more of his classmates file in, some in twos and threes. There is still no sign of Yamazaki, or Haruka’s professor, for that matter. He wonders if class was canceled and no one had bothered to inform them.

A few students tittered around him, realizing the oddity of the situation. Professor Tanizaki is rarely late, and already it’s five minutes after two o’clock. Well, Haruka thinks, they only have to wait ten more minutes before class is automatically canceled and they can leave. Going home early certainly sounds more appealing than drawing Yamazaki for the next three hours.

However, not two minutes after he considers it, Professor Tanizaki – a short, balding man with a round belly under his button down shirt – strides in, looking harried. A young man who is definitely not Yamazaki trails behind him. “Sorry I’m late, everyone,” Tanizaki says, setting his bag down on the desk at the front of the room. “I’m sure many of you were hoping for the cancellation.”

He ignores the awkward shuffling of students turning the pages of their sketchbooks and taking out pencils.

“Yamazaki had to cancel rather last minute,” he explains, rummaging in his own satchel for pencils and paper. “So I’ve spent much of the day trying to recruit another model so I wouldn’t have to suspend the lesson. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to have Mr. Tachibana approach me with his willingness to model for us today.” He gestures to the boy beside him, who stands straight up, hands at his sides. However, his nervousness is evident in the way his fingers twitch and tap against his thighs as his eyes dart around to peer at each member the class.

“Please introduce yourself,” Tanizaki says to Tachibana, who jumps and stammers a greeting.

“M-my name is Makoto Tachibana,” he says. “I’m a second year majoring in Japanese literature, a-and I’ll be...modeling...for you...today.” He pauses between words at the end of his statement, as if not quite sure what to say.

“Nice to meet you,” half the class choruses, and Haruka notes a couple of his female classmates giggling and commenting on Tachibana’s physique. He huffs a sigh, unimpressed.

Tanizaki nods and gestures to a large table in the middle of the circle of easels, telling Tachibana, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Tachibana’s lips quirk into a hesitant smile, and he steps forward, unbuttoning his plaid flannel shirt and draping it over the corner of the table. Haruka watches as he undresses, taking in the contours of Tachibana’s muscles from top to bottom with his artist’s eye. He likes angular features with detail and shadow, and Tachibana’s toned figure does not disappoint. His build is similar to Yamazaki’s, both of them quite a bit bigger than Haruka.

As soon as his clothes are off, Tachibana looks as if he’s trying to shrink in on himself, shoulders drawn forward, closing him off, hands clasped in front of him as he wrings them. He’s red to the tips of his ears, staring at the floor. 

Haruka is vaguely annoyed. How is he supposed to draw Tachibana if all he does is look down and squirm the whole time?

One of the giggling girls speaks first. “Could you sit on the table with your ankle on your knee, please? And lean back on one hand, with the other maybe on your calf?”

Makoto follows her directions, moving stiffly. He looks as if he’s about to grab for his clothes to cover himself until the girl asks him to angle his body in the opposite direction so his back is to Haruka.

Haruka’s eyes widen. It’s all he can do not to let his jaw drop when he sees for the first time how beautiful Makoto’s back muscles are. He isn’t thinking of them in the same way the two girls had, but from an artistic standpoint, they were perfect. The hills of his shoulder blades gave way to a firm landscape, a faint “v” leading down to the middle of his spine, another’s lines running parallel to the base of his back. Suddenly, Haruka is somewhat thankful Tachibana is so tense – it makes it easier to see the details of his form.

Haruka picks up a pencil and starts sketching, beginning around Tachibana’s shoulders. The graphite glides smoothly over the paper, and Haruka relishes the feeling of it in his hand. He makes light strokes, going over each one a few times before turning it into the curve of Tachibana’s blushing neck and shoulder or the dip behind his shoulder blade or the wavering line of his spine. He moves the pencil as if he’s tracing each detail directly on Tachibana’s back instead of marking it on his own paper.

He’s startled, and disappointed, when after five minutes, one of the guys in the class asks Tachibana to change position, put one hand on his hip, the other on the back of his neck, elbow out, and stand like he’s taking a step forward. Fortunately, his back is still to Haruka, and he continues marking each angle. He isn’t interested in anything else at this point – not his impressive biceps, nor his legs, or the fineness of his honey brown hair, which sticks up in all directions. He’s too focused on the back, practically drowning in how sharp each piece of the landscape clearly outlined on Tachibana’s skin.

And once again, he’s changing position. This time, he’s facing Haruka, and Haruka considers moving so he has a better view. Although, the last thing he wants is to call attention to himself, so perhaps he should just wait until he turns around. After all, it isn’t as if the front of Tachibana is unpleasant to look it. His abs are as toned as the rest of him, and he has a gentle face, though his jaw is clenched, brow furrowed just a little. It doesn’t suit him, Haruka thinks, that kind of expression.

Tachibana notices him staring. His lips part, and a visible shudder ripples through him. He tries to hold Haruka’s gaze, but after a moment, blinks several times before averting his eyes. Haruka keeps staring without drawing anything, just watching Tachibana and listening to the collection of pencils scratching across everyone else’s paper.

The girl beside Haruka speaks next, and he glares in her direction. This means Tachibana still isn’t turning around. Tachibana himself doesn’t seem all that enthused about it either, starting to fidget under Haruka’s intent stare.

“Nanase,” Professor Tanizaki says, coming up behind him and tapping Haruka’s sketchbook with the end of his pencil. “Get drawing – you’ve got plenty of material and plenty of space to fill.”

Haruka doesn’t answer, only frowns and takes his pencil back up. He glances toward Tachibana and scribbles an oval and a partial outline of his body until Tanizaki moves on – at which point Haruka promptly erases the entire thing.

Although Haruka wants to see Tachibana’s back, he refuses to ask him to change position. He doesn’t like to speak in class, doesn’t like to draw attention, and he’d rather take his time waiting than ask for something. And yet, no one else in the class seems to have a problem with it, as they continue to instruct him into various poses, for some of which he stands, and others he sits or lies down. Haruka’s sketchbook page stays bare except for the back sketch, which takes up about half the page.

He’s about to relent and move to another area of the room when Tachibana starts looking lost, standing in the center of the circle. No one has asked him for anything for a while, and he searches the students’ faces in hopes of getting his request – help – across.

“You can do whatever you want,” one girl pipes up from a few easels down.

Tachibana freezes. “What?”

“Pose,” she says. “Anything you want. You’re doing great.”

Tachibana stutters something unintelligible, and fumbles his own limbs like he forgot he could control them on his own. Finally, he whirls away from Haruka like he’s been waiting to forever.

Haruka isn’t complaining. Tachibana reaches his arms up over his head, grabbing one elbow and pulling it inward, his legs spaced about shoulder width apart. The stretch emphasizes each muscle, each ridge and valley, even more than before.

Haruka is entranced. Before Tachibana can change his position, Haruka grabs his pencil and fills in what he missed at the beginning of class, then adds shading, rubbing the flat of his pencil over the page, beneath existing lines, and in other places where the shadow is too subtle to have drawn anything too distinct. 

Tachibana is keeping his back to Haruka, and Haruka is pretty sure it’s on purpose, but he doesn’t care. He’s too fixed on recreating the image of his figure on paper in as much detail as possible.

“Alright,” Tanizaki calls from the front of the room. “Take a break. Fifteen minutes. Use the bathroom, get a quick snack, whatever. Just be back here by four. And Tachibana, don’t forget to put your clothes on if you leave the room,” he says, half-jokingly. Haruka is pretty sure there was one time when Yamazaki nearly walked out of class naked, so why wouldn’t Tanizaki take the precaution?

Tachibana chuckles feebly, reaching for his pants. He doesn’t leave the room, but he does go around and talk to some of the students, including the two girls who just can’t wait to show him their drawings of him.

He smiles, though Haruka doesn’t miss the fact that he’s covering something else. Insult, maybe? Nevertheless, he doesn’t let on when he comments on their work.

“These are great!” he says, and it sounds genuine. The girls beam and blush and Haruka sighs, almost embarrassed for them.

A couple of other people show him their sketchbooks, some of them showing him earlier sketches of Yamazaki, too. In some cases, he seems impressed. In others, Haruka catches that expression of slight distaste before it’s covered up with a grin and kind words. Haruka wishes he would just tell them the drawings are bad and save himself the trouble.

“Dude, you should see Nanase’s!” one guy says over Haruka’s shoulder. Haruka shoots him a venomous glare. He doesn’t like when people look at his drawings. If he could help it, he wouldn’t even allow his professor to see them, but it was part of the art class requirements, and he wanted to draw.

Tachibana seems hesitant to come over, but when Haruka’s classmate beckons him once more, he’s there in a few strides. He peeks timidly around the easel, no doubt aware of Haruka’s displeasure as half the class crowds him. However, when he sees the sketch, his eyes go wide and he glances between it and Haruka’s scowl.

“This is amazing!” Tachibana says in awe. Haruka isn’t sure what he’s so impressed by. It’s not like he’s created a masterpiece – it’s just a drawing of a back.

“It’s nothing,” Haruka says, looking away.

“No, really, it’s beautiful,” Tachibana gushes, and reaches up to touch it.

“Don’t,” Haruka says firmly, wondering what kind of idiot would risk smearing something he thought was beautiful. Not to mention, who would just go around touching other people’s stuff anyway?

Tachibana pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned. “S-sorry,” he stammers. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Haruka sighs, and Professor Tanizaki calls for everyone to go back to their easels, break now over. Tachibana once again removes his clothes and stands with his back to Haruka, though perhaps with a different intent. He’s still pretty tense, and Haruka can see it in the way his shoulders are set, but he stands more comfortably. It’s as if he’s inviting Haruka to keep drawing, now that he’s seen what he can do.

Haruka relents, though after a few minutes, he finds that he’s just about finished drawing Tachibana’s back, and there’s still about an hour left of class. He considers where to go from here, and decides that getting into the mess of Tachibana’s hair would be too much effort for right now. So he goes lower, penciling the slight angle of his hips, the curves of his butt, the length of his legs.

Haruka has never really felt awkward about calling their male models attractive. It’s from an artistic standpoint, he thinks. Yamazaki is attractive, too, even if he does have a rather abrasive personality. Although, he muses, there’s something about Tachibana’s personality that makes it even more exciting to draw him. The shyness that he’s gradually shedding, the gentleness, the way he talks...it’s nice, Haruka admits, and a stark contrast to his bulky physique.

Haruka is shading the backs of Tachibana’s knees when Tanizaki tells them to wrap up. Though Haruka tries to clean up his work area and slip out of the room quickly, Tachibana is at his side, fully dressed except for his plaid shirt, before he even closes his sketchbook.

“Wow,” he breathes, staring at Haruka’s drawing. “You really are good!”

“Not really,” Haruka says in an attempt to deflect anymore conversation.

“No, I mean it!” Tachibana says, shoving one arm, then the other into the jacket sleeves. He forgets to adjust his collar, and one side sticks up to his jaw. “I can’t draw at all, so seeing something like this, I’m really impressed.”

Haruka just folds the sketchbook closed and drops it into his portfolio. He ignores Tachibana’s comments, annoyance budding at the base of his throat. It isn’t like he asked his opinion.

He leaves the room without acknowledging Tachibana’s “see you later.”

~*~*~

Makoto Tachibana returns to his dorm that evening to find his roommate sprawled across his bed, holding an open book about a foot above his face. He peers around his bicep when Makoto shuts the door, a few strands of red hair falling into his face.

“Yo, Makoto,” he says, lowering the book.

“Hey, Rin,” Makoto says, dropping his backpack at the foot of his own bed with a hard thud that makes him flinch. He flops down onto the mattress face down, and heaves a haggard sigh.

Rin rolls over onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. “So?” he says. “How’d it go?”

Makoto brings his hands up to cover his face, and shakes his head. “It was so embarrassing!” he cries, words muffled into his palms. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing it...I got there and I was naked for the whole time except for the break, and it was awkward because this one guy was staring at me really weirdly and—“

“Whoa, slow down,” Rin says, cutting off Makoto’s babbling, and waiting until Makoto turns his head to face him. “That’s kind of the point of nude modeling. To be nude.”

Makoto shakes his head. “It’s not just that. It’s this one guy...Nanase, I think?”

Rin rests his head on his hand. “I guess you’re gonna have creeps in every class, right?”

“It...wasn’t exactly like that,” Makoto muses, and shifts position onto his back. “It’s just...not even like he was trying to be weird, he just looked really...intense.”

Rin raises an eyebrow. “Okay...so what do you want me to do about it?”

“Rin,” Makoto groans, arms stretched out on each side. “It’s not that he’s being...like he’s...like that, it’s just uncomfortable because it feels like he’s studying you.”

“Isn’t that what he’s supposed to be doing?” Rin asks, confused.

Makoto shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like he’s looking through you, not just at you. It feels...exposed.”

Rin scoffs. “Well, you kind of are. If he’s staring at your dick too much—“

“Rin!!” Makoto exclaims, shooting upright, blushing with wide eyes. “That’s not it at all!”

Rin laughs. “Okay, okay, calm down,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and resting his forearms on his knees. “So what are you bothered about, then?”

Makoto sighs and buries his face in his hands. He has no idea how he’s supposed to explain this to Rin. It’s not like Nanase is looking at him sexually – at least, Makoto doesn’t think so – but there’s something deeply unsettling about his eyes, and his stoic expression, and the way he didn’t stop staring at Makoto when they were facing each other.

“I don’t know,” Makoto finally says, brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of it, and suddenly remembers Nanase’s drawing. “But he’s an amazing artist. On break, I saw some of their drawings, and I can barely remember any other than his. I mean, he only really drew my back, so when I had to think of poses myself, I made sure I was turned away from him, but—“

“Hang on,” Rin says, brow knitted in confusion. “You were just talking like you can’t stand the guy, and now you’re going on about how great he is?”

“N-no, I’m not,” Makoto says hurriedly. “But I’m not going to ignore that he draws well, even if he makes me uncomfortable.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Rin says, knowing to expect this sort of thing from Makoto. “So, are you going back?”

Makoto chews the corner of his lip before he answers. “I’m not sure. The teacher asked me to, since they’re not sure how long the other model will be out, but after today, I’m not sure if I can do it.”

Rin leans back on his hands. “Sure you can. You did it today, and it pays, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Makoto assents slowly. He doesn’t particularly want to go back, and not only because he doesn’t want Nanase staring at him like that again, but because being completely naked in front of a bunch of strangers was even more awkward than he’d imagined. Then again, it wasn’t quite as bad when he wasn’t looking at Nanase, and the embarrassment did wear off...a little. And he wouldn’t mind seeing everyone’s drawings again – though he wouldn’t admit that ‘everyone’ was mostly just Nanase in this case.

Reading Makoto’s conflict, Rin speaks again. “You might as well try it,” he says. “What harm can one more day do? If you don’t like it, just quit after that.”

“I...I guess,” Makoto relents, though he still isn’t quite sure of himself.

Rin stands and stretches. “I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want anything?”

Makoto shakes his head as Rin dons his swimming jersey for the short walk to one of the campus dining halls. And then he’s alone to consider his choice, wondering whether it’s worth it even as he sends an email to Professor Tanizaki, telling him he’ll model for the next class.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome. Updates will most likely be REALLY slow, but I hope you guys enjoy what's here in the meantime!


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